


Working Out Some Kinks

by clarityhiding



Series: Earth and Alpf'ch'l [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Tentacles, Tentatodd Week 2020, Tumblr: Tentatodd Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: The Martha Wayne Foundation for Integration and Cooperation is a non-profit working on both sides of the Gate to help with the emigration, immigration, and integration of humans on the Alpf'ch'l side and magical beings on the Earth side. It's important work when it comes to building the bridges of interspecies cooperation.The Maintenance team experiences a bit of a problem while in Storage and have to call in some extra help.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Earth and Alpf'ch'l [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707874
Comments: 42
Kudos: 210





	Working Out Some Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 6: ~~Demons &~~ Magic of TentaTodd Week 2020.
> 
> Thanks to chibi_nightowl for the beta.

This was not how Jason had planned to spend his day, and he says as much to Bizarro as they stagger out of the wreckage and into a clear aisle. "This was not how I planned to spend my day." 

The back of his shirt is stuck to his skin, soaked through with an unholy combination of whatever potions were stored on the shelves that just collapsed on them. At least he had the cloth to protect him; Biz got splashed in the face and only managed to get an arm up to protect his eyes.

"Me am sorry."

Jason sighs. One of these days, he'd like to have a few choice words with Biz's creator and find out what the hell the creep did that instilled the older of the two alien-cyclops hybrids with such an ingrained sense of guilt. Probably won't ever happen considering the sentence slammed on the guy, but that doesn't stop him from wishing. "This was in no way your fault," he reassures, balling up his shirt and attempting to sop up some of the mess on his friend with the relatively clean front. "Sometimes termites just happen. Sometimes those termites riddle the support columns of all the shelves in an aisle and the whole thing comes crashing down on you."

"Still sorry." Biz coughs a cloud of blue smoke, then a pink one, because of course the consequences of being showered with so many magical things at one time are still manifesting. "Bizarro feel itchy." He reaches up to rub just-cleaned skin and Jason quickly bats his hands away.

"Leave it alone, we don't want you accidentally spreading it further. See if you can't stick it out until we can see Raven on the other side." Though now he’s feeling itchy too, like his whole back is covered in hives. He grits his teeth, willing himself to follow his own advice and not scratch. "Think you can manage to fly us back to the door? It'll be faster than walking."

"Itchy," Biz repeats, screwing up his face. "No fly."

Jason can't blame him. His own legs feel so weak from the itchiness that he doubts he can manage more than a few more steps. He has no idea what kind of concentration it takes to fly, but probably it's a lot more than it takes to walk. "Alright then, guess we'll just have to call in an assist." Sitting down on the floor of Storage, he pulls out his cellphone. After a moment's thought, he lies back. The cool cement helps dull the itch slightly, but not nearly as much as he hoped it would.

"Call Kon?" Bizarro asks, sounding a little happier at that idea. The big softy really loves his brother.

"Not if I don't have to. He's doing house calls today, isn't even in the building." Jason scrolls through his contacts, trying to think who else at the Foundation might be able to help. Dick's doing house calls also, so he's out. Zinda can fly, but as a harpy she's nowhere near strong enough to lift him, let alone Bizarro. Same problem with Dinah, who despite being a bit of a mongrel is more siren than anything else and has inherited next to none of her grandfather's awesome strength. Though, come to think of it, she's no longer the only one at the Foundation with that particular heritage.

"Oh!" Bizarro exclaims, leaving off scratching his face—because of course he had to once Jason wasn't there to stop him—in surprise. "No more itch? Still feel funny."

Staring up at his friend, Jason quickly scrolls up and selects a name, calling it immediately. This _definitely_ warrants an assist as soon as possible.

Thankfully, Tim picks up on the first ring. _"Hey, what's up?"_

"So, this might be a bit rude and feel free to tell me to shut it if it is, but Drake—is that an Anglicization of the Latin _draco_ or a description of your subspecies?"

_"From the Latin. We got it back when the fabric between the planes was a bit thinner and there was more casual cross-traffic. If you're worried we might be distantly related, no one's actually sure drakes are a hybridization of fire salamanders and dragons, despite what some of the legends may say."_

Somehow Jason managed to miss hearing any of those legends back in grad school. Much as he'd love to explore them now, there are more pressing matters. "So you're a dragon, not a drake? Wings and everything?"

 _"Definitely a dragon,"_ Tim says, sounding mildly offended that anyone might think otherwise. _"And of course I have wings—my family name is 'Drake,' not 'Long.'"_

"Awesome. Your shift is a shrinking one, right? What's your carrying capacity outside of it?"

_"Pretty good, I can manage a little over half a ton if I stagger the weight. Why, need me to carry something for you?"_

"Yeah," Jason says, the word coming out more than a little strangled as he bites down a gasp when his back spasms hard enough to push him away from the floor. "Something like that."

* * *

He tries to give Tim directions to their location, but Jason's never really tried to map out Storage from above before so eventually he gives up and says he'll send up a flare every few minutes.

 _"You'll run out of flares pretty quickly at that rate,"_ Tim says, panting slightly as he jogs through the building.

"I'm not going to use actual flares. That'd be stupid and besides, I haven't got any."

There's a moment of silence, followed by a rueful chuckle. _"Right, forgot who I was talking to for a moment there. Okay, I'm through the door. It'll take me a few minutes to change, and I have to hang up and leave my phone behind."_

"Right. Right, of course." Jason gulps. Hesitates for a moment. Adds, "Try and avoid the entire southwest section. We thought we rooted the redcaps, but a few survived and they've been building trebuchets."

_"Got it. See you soon, Jay."_

"Bye." With great reluctance, he ends the call and returns the phone to his pocket. Turning his head, he catches Bizarro’s attention. "Tim's going to be here soon, and he can fly us to the entrance."

"Good. Red His fix Red Him," Bizarro says, nodding seriously—or, at least, apparently trying to nod, since he's having a bit of difficulty with the bottom half of his face at the moment. At least he's stopped scratching, but that's probably more because his hand is currently a little tied up with the arm he used to shield his face earlier.

" _Please_ try not to call him that when he shows up," Jason begs. He's read as much as he could find in the Foundation archives about dragons, but since Tim is the first one to immigrate, there isn't much to be found. Still, everything he has read makes it clear that dragons tend to be protective of that which they've decided is _theirs_ , so he isn't keen on learning how Tim might take the implication that _he_ belongs to _Jason_ instead of the other way around.

Bizarro shoots him a disturbingly insightful look, and Jason quickly turns away.

It's been almost three minutes, he should be sending off the first flare. "Okay, stay back. I don't want to burn you." Pursing his lips, he stares up at the faraway ceiling and quickly spits up a single, bright fireball. It travels up in a straight line, illuminating the area until it's too high and turns into a distant star before finally petering out into nothing.

Jason's back spasms again, nearly shoving him over onto his stomach, and he finds himself wishing for the itch to return. At least that was less terrifying.

He hopes Tim gets here soon.

* * *

He's about to send up a fourth flare when a shadow passes overhead. It doubles back a moment later, angling downwards until before he knows it, Jason's hair is blown back by the beating of impressive wings as the creature settles down in the wide space of the center aisle, moving with unexpected delicacy.

"Well, when you said you had a medical emergency, this definitely isn’t what I expected," Tim says, his huge blue and gold head swinging over to gently nose Jason's back.

The tentacles there try to grab the dragon's snout, and he jerks back just in time to escape their grasp.

"A good chunk of the shelves consisted of various magical potions collapsed. Biz and I mostly escaped getting crushed, but we both got splashed," Jason explains, sitting up to direct Tim's attention to Bizarro. The half-cyclops looks like an escapee from some Lovecraftian horror story, the bottom part of his face a mess of tentacles.

"Bizarro am wormy," his friend sadly declares.

"I can see that."

"All that magic messed with Biz's ability to fly, and since I'm in no shape to walk, I figured it would be better to call in some help." Jason hadn't been sure in the initial mad scramble, but now that he's trying to stand up, it's becoming increasingly clear that one of his legs isn't behaving properly. If nothing else, he's pretty sure his toes are supposed to actually react when he tries to move them. And, of course, there shouldn't be any bone showing through the skin. It's a wonder he hasn't noticed the pain up until now, but he doesn't doubt that's more due to the fact that his entire back has turned into a horrific mass of wiggly appendages than any indication of the severity of the break.

"Yikes, no, you definitely shouldn't be going anywhere," Tim agrees, his already-large blue eyes widening even more. "I know how protective you can be of Storage, I'm glad you trusted me enough to call for help when you needed it."

Grabbing a nearby piece of debris to use as a make-shift crutch, Jason struggles to his feet and, with great difficulty, hobbles closer to the dragon. "It's less that I'm protective of this place and more that I know the dangers. It's generally a bad idea for anyone unfamiliar with it to wander around on their own."

"Still. Thank you for thinking of me." Tim nuzzles him again. The tentacles aren't any better behaved than they were the first time, and Jason gets blasted by hot, moist air when the dragon snorts to shake them off.

"Sound like Red His," Bizarro says, looking a bit confused as he walks over to help support Jason. The tentacles on his arm have finally released the fingers of his other hand, apparently content to wrap themselves around and through the front of his overalls. "Flappy lizard eat Red His?"

"Remember how I told you Tim is a dragon? This is what he looks like when he's not shifted," Jason tells him. "He didn't eat himself."

"I'm here to fly you back, Bizarro," Tim explains. He squats down low to the floor, folding his massive wings back and out of the way. "Do you think you can climb onto my back and ride there?"

"That easy, Bizarro am good climber," Bizarro declares, scrambling to display just how good. Unlike Jason's, the tentacles on his arm almost seem to help him clamber onto Tim, finding grips on smooth scales and wrapping around frilly protrusions. Well, at least someone seems to be managing alright with this whole debacle.

Tim's head swings around, and he nudges Bizarro a few times, making sure the man is firmly secured before the dragon turns his focus back to Jason. "There's not really enough open space here for me to take off. Are the shelves sturdy enough to take my weight if I climb one?"

"Normally I'd tell you yes, definitely. Unfortunately, I have no idea how far the termites have spread. You might want to move a few aisles over before you try, and only climb shelves with less volatile contents just to be on the safe side," Jason advises.

Tim says, "Good to know," and then, quite unexpectedly, carefully wraps one huge hand around Jason's waist, easily lifting him up.

"Woah, hey! What the heck d'you think you're doing?" Jason demands. He tries and fails to suppress a wince as the dragon walks awkwardly down the aisle, jostling Jason's bum leg with each step. Already, the tentacles are wrapping around and around Tim's hand and arm.

"I told you, I can carry over half a ton like this. I'm not about to leave you here while I fly Bizarro back, and you can hardly climb onto my back with a leg injury like that," Tim says. He pauses, peering at a set of shelves. "Dirks, claymores, and various other blades. Is that mundane enough?"

"Uh, probably not a good idea. Some of those are enchanted and I'd hate for any of us to end up skewered and cursed if it collapses. Two aisles down is copier and printer paper. That would probably be safer."

"You're the boss." Tim resumes his loping walk until he reaches the aforementioned shelf, then scrambles up it. From his spot on the back of the dragon, Bizarro is making delighted _weee!_ sounds.

"Now I know how the damsel in distress from _King Kong_ feels," Jason tries to joke, gritting his teeth against the pain each time his leg is jostled. At least the tentacles seem to have settled down, more than content to stay in place now that they've wrapped themselves firmly around Tim.

"Who?" Tim asks, not sounding the least bit winded by his climb.

"We really need to introduce you to more Earth media. Your pop culture reference bank is severely lacking," Jason tells him.

"Sounds like something for our next 'Date Night,' then."

Finally, the dragon reaches the top, and spreads his wings, letting them stretch out a good thirty or more feet in either direction, electric blue bleeding into gorgeous, iridescent gold along the edges. "Alright," Tim says, giving his wings a good shake as his free hand comes to join the one already around Jason's waist, "let's get you two back to someone who knows how to deal with this." He crouches, then springs upwards, those huge wings catching the mysterious breeze that always blows through Storage.

The next thing he knows, Jason is flying.

* * *

The move from the entrance of Storage to Medical is a bit of a blur of pain and discomfort for Jason. It's probably just as well, since as much as he likes Tim, he doesn't need his brain associating naked Tim with his place of work, and the dragon is quick to resume his shift once Bizarro disembarks. Despite being built to accommodate larger-than-human creatures like centaurs and cyclopses, the halls of the Foundation are nowhere near wide enough for a twenty-foot-long dragon.

Jason's fairly certain Bizarro carries him most of the way, but that's not exactly unusual. Storage is a dangerous enough place to work that this is hardly the first time his partner has had to carry Jason's squishier self through the office. Still, it _is_ the first time it's happened with Tim right there, fretting the whole way.

"I called ahead to Medical, so they're expecting you. Do you have any idea what was on the shelving that collapsed? It could help them figure out how to better treat… whatever this is," Tim asks as he jogs along, carefully staying three feet away from them at all times, since Jason's tentacles insist on trying to grab him otherwise.

"A lot of different shit," Jason gasps. "Part of the reason we were down there was to do a thorough inventory. People banish things to Storage all the time, and it mostly goes to the right place, but they aren't always so great about adding it to the database." Plus, he's fairly certain some less-than-reputable individuals occasionally use the banishing spell to stash contraband and other unsavory items. He's not sure how they retrieve the items later—the wards on Storage are very strong when it comes to keeping things in—but considering that he and Bizarro have unearthed at least a couple of corpses over the years, retrieval may not always be part of their plan. "There's a list on the computer, but I'm sure that only accounts for half the stuff that was stored there."

"I don't see why the Foundation even _had_ so many potions," Tim grumbles, impatiently hitting the elevator's call button repeatedly, as if that will summon it faster. "Staplers and paper, sure. But potions and cursed weapons? Not exactly standard office supplies."

"We also store contraband that’s confiscated from people when they pass through Gate Customs. Some of it goes back to Apf'ch'l, some of it is unstable enough that the higher ups don't want to risk sending it through a second time. Access to Storage is severely limited, so most of the time it's safe enough to keep things there," Jason explains. He's trying to focus on the conversation so he doesn't have to think about the fact that he's beginning to feel wet and clammy all over. Neither symptom is a particularly good one to have when one is part fire salamander.

From the look on Tim's face, it's pretty obvious that he's not doing a great job of hiding his distress. He opens his mouth to speak—to reassure, or deflect, or _something_ , but Bizarro beats him to the punch.

"No be sad, Red His. Bizarro no am worms!" he exclaims, lifting his chin.

Glancing up, Jason is surprised to see that the tentacles are already retreating on Biz's face, growing shorter and smaller like they're being drawn back into the hybrid's body. Well, that's probably a good sign, right? "See, nothing to worry about," he tells Tim.

"Bizarro's an invulnerable cyclopian hybrid and you're mostly human. I'll continue to worry, thanks."

* * *

When they reach Medical, Jason is moved to a hospital bed while Bizarro is ushered away. He has to lie on his stomach since his entire back still has a mind of its own and is showing no intention of going back to normal any time soon.

"Stay with me?" Jason asks once he's been wheeled into a room. Turning his head to the side, he reaches out for Tim's hand.

"I probably shouldn't leave," Tim allows, taking his hand. "I mean, I've been exposed to whatever happened to still be on you when I carried you. It would be pretty irresponsible of me to return to work and risk contaminating even more people."

"Very," Jason agrees. One of the tentacles sneaks over, winding itself around their joined hands and up Tim's arm. "Uh. Sorry."

"It's fine," he says, squeezing Jason's hand reassuringly. "They were a lot more exploratory when I was carrying you. I don't mind."

"You, uh. You sure about that?" Jason squeaks. No matter how hard he silently wills the damned things to _lie_ still, they can't seem to leave Tim alone, crawling up his arms, caressing his face, pushing at the edge of his shirt.

"Oookay, that's enough of that," Tim says firmly, slapping at the tentacles until they release him. "Jason, you're wonderful, but if you don't get them under control, I _will_ tie them and you to the bed."

"Oh, uh. Oh." Jason blinks several times, trying to restart his brain. There's just something about Tim taking an authoritative tone while threatening to tie him up that does all kinds of unexpectedly pleasant things to him. "That's… probably something we should save until later. After this is all fixed and we've, uh. Had a talk or two." 

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Hey, it's as much a surprise to me as it is to you! Honestly didn't even realize it was something I was into until you said that."

"Uh huh. Well, rest assured that that _won't_ be happening any time soon. Not until you have a clean bill of health and have either lost all of—this—or at least managed to control them."

"I don't know if that's going to be possible. Controlling them, I mean. I've been trying for a while, and they’re not listening," Jason admits.

"You clearly have _some_ connection to them," Tim says, eyeing the tentacles with suspicion.

"Huh? Why d'you say that?"

"Didn't see them trying to molest Bizarro when he was carrying you."

Jason frowns, thinking back. "That's… a good point."

"Something to think about."

* * *

When Dr. Thompkins joins them half an hour later, Jason is in the middle of trying to get the tentacles to follow his mental instructions while music blares from the speakers of Tim's phone.

She pauses in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Mr. Todd. Mr. Drake. Do I _want_ to know why the Macarena is playing?"

There's a squeak and tentacles stop swaying as Tim quickly mutes his phone. 

"Uh. Because we decided Gangnam Style was too advanced for them to attempt yet?" Jason offers, though he doesn't suppose that's much of an excuse.

"We're trying to get it so Jason has more control over what the tentacles do," Tim explains, hopping to his feet and wringing his hands. Jason would do the same if he could. It's not a good sign that it's the doctor here and not Raven—usually, Dr. Thompkins only gets involved when a medical problem can't be quickly resolved by her colleague's magic.

"Hrm, I see." She spares Tim a glance, then turns her attention back to Jason. "You're fine with Mr. Drake being apprised of your medical situation?"

"Tim got secondhand exposure, so he should probably hear it too." They've only been dating for a few months, but they're close enough friends at this point that he doesn't mind sharing. It also doesn't hurt that, as the only full dragon currently on Earth, Tim's more likely than most to be aware of peculiarities that might result from Jason's fire-salamander physiology.

"In that case, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that since Mr. Drake has yet to show any symptoms, it's likely the volatility of the potions wore off by the time he came into contact with you. Likewise, from what we were able to observe with Bizarro, it looks like this is, in all probability, something that will wear off given enough time."

"You're sure? I mean, Bizarro was nearly back to normal by the time we got here and Jason still has huge tentacles growing out of his back," Tim reminds her.

"Mr. Todd is also more human than anything else, while Bizarro has a particularly hardy constitution. Still, Mr. Todd's extra appendages have already begun to shrink, considering they were measured at over four feet in length when he first arrived in Medical. They appear to be several inches shorter now."

Jason blinks, a little surprised. He's been so focused on trying to get them to behave and _not_ molest Tim that he didn't notice them shrinking. Tentatively, he releases what little control he's mastered and is startled to realize they aren't long enough to reach Tim anymore. They certainly make a valiant effort, once he lets them, but still come up short. "Huh. Well, that's something, I guess?"

Not enough of something, though, from the sour look Tim gives the tentacle. "Can't you do anything to speed up the process? Like you said—Jason is mostly human, he doesn't have any of Bizarro's resistance or durability, _and_ Jason's changed significantly more than Biz did. It can't be good for his body to have this kind of stress on it."

"It's highly unlikely that any spell could successfully counter this considering the manner in which it happened. Likewise, I'm sure you'll understand my reluctance to attempt to treat it with yet another potion."

While Doctor Thompkins has a very valid point, Jason finds himself caught by Tim's words as the germ of an idea begins to form. "So basically it's taking a lot longer for me to go back to normal because of my humanity?"

"As I've told you many times, people who have spent the majority of their lives on Apf'ch'l have higher resistance to magical afflictions," Dr. Thompkins reminds him. 

Jason winces at her chiding tone."Right, because of immunities and, uh, congruent physiology." He doesn't entirely understand it, but from the way it's been explained to him in the past, magical beings are more resistant to magic because the magic in their bodies sometimes causes outside magic to mistake the being for part of itself. Or something. "So if I'm _more_ magical, I should get better faster. Theoretically."

"Well, that's certainly a possibility. Though I don't see how we could test such a thing, short of manipulating your body on a genetic level," the doctor agrees.

Tim is a lot quicker on the uptake. "Wait. Jason, no, that's not—"

Probably he should have paid attention to Tim, since the next thing Jason knows, the entire hospital bed has gone up in flames, victim to the intense heat radiating out from his now red-hot body. "Whoops. Maybe I didn't think this through all the way?" 

It's a little difficult, but he manages to detangle himself from the burning remains of the bed and limp into the center of the room, where he's less likely to cause any damage. Though, from the way the ceiling tiles are starting to turn brown and the linoleum is beginning to peel under his bare feet, he possibly hasn't improved matters much at all.

"Mr. Todd, would you _please_ cease this ridiculousness before you burn down the entire building!"

"Wait a minute?" Tim suggests, pulling a fire extinguisher from the wall in order to put out the bed. "It's definitely working, just, uh. That hospital gown isn't nearly as durable as your charmed and asbestos-laced clothes." 

His cheeks more than a little golden, he sets down the extinguisher next to the ruined bed so he can grab Jason's boxers from where they're slung over a chair and hold them out. The tentacles automatically reach for Tim when he gets close, but they come up short and Jason snags them first. 

If he could right now, his ears would be burning from embarrassment as he quickly pulls them on. Yikes, flashing Dr. Thompkins was _not_ on today's to-do list. "Uh, I think I might be going through the floor? Should I stop?"

" _Yes!_ " the other two exclaim, looking more than a little shocked.

"Okay, geez, no need to shout." It's easy to dampen his internal fire, letting his body return to its normal, base state. "Sooo, aside from the property damage, how'd it go?" Jason twists his head, trying to get a good view of his back, but it's kind of difficult to see much. That has to be a good thing, right? If the tentacles were still long, he'd see at least some part of them, wouldn't he?

Dr. Thompkins takes a step forward, then stops, hesitating slightly as she glances at the destruction surrounding Jason. "Mr. Drake, perhaps it would be better for you to perform any necessary examinations until everything has had time to cool off. If that's alright with Mr. Todd?"

"Oh, sure. Tim can examine me any day."

"Really not the time," the dragon grumbles, but he still steps in close, easily ignoring the lingering heat in order to feel Jason's back. "It's a little lumpier than it normally is, but otherwise the tentacles are gone."

The doctor snorts. "I suppose your unorthodox treatment worked— _this_ time. In the future, it would be better if you limited such experimentation until we've had a chance to transfer you to one of the sturdier rooms. The Foundation isn't made of money, Mr. Todd, and it will be some time before our Maintenance crew will be available to repair this room."

He winces. "Sorry. Though, seriously, I can fix it now, just as soon as I get dressed—Administration has a standing rule that Medical gets top priority any time you guys need work."

"We can make do with being a room and a bed short for a day or two. For now, I am ordering both you and Bizarro home to rest and recuperate until next week. You may feel fine, but there is likely to be lingering fatigue from the stresses your body has gone through. And while you may have fixed one problem, I do ask that you refrain from checking yourself out until my associate has had a chance to see to that leg. Since there's no longer any concern about any conflict between cure and curse." She gives the room a final, grumpy look, then leaves.

Jason grimaces, very aware of the pain in his leg now that the fire is no longer stoked in his veins. Something presses against the back of his legs, and when he glances over, Tim is standing there, having pushed a chair over. 

He flashes him a grateful smile and collapses into it. "Thanks."

"No problem." Tim comes around and leans in to press his forehead to Jason's. "She has a good point. Beyond still being injured, you'd need to get things from Storage to fix things, right? And it'd probably be a good idea to clean up the mess in there before you did anything else, and I'd think you'd want Kon or Dick to help with that, since they can clean it without touching anything. So you'd have to wait no matter what."

"Curse you and your logic," Jason grumbles, tugging on the new hospital gown Tim hands him.

"Plus, this'll give you plenty of time to think about what you want to say tonight," Tim adds, his cheeks turning gold. "I mean. If you were serious about us having that kink talk."

He shouldn't have any fire left in him after his earlier display, but Jason still has to drop the gown's ties to bat out his ears when flames shoot up from both. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was serious. It'd probably be a good idea, for both of us?"

"Glad we see eye-to-eye on that." Tim bends down and presses a kiss to his lips. "Until this evening, then."

"Yeah, okay," Jason says dazedly, watching Tim's retreating form. He's still pretty sure he's over his head, getting involved with a dragon—but damn if he isn't enjoying every minute of it.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or educational publishing), history fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart. Also, because I am an actual human being with opinions of my own, sometimes I post or reblog things that reflect those opinions. If you can't handle the idea of someone existing in the universe and possessing opinions which differ from your own, you should not click that link.


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